


Amour Interdit

by Topanga



Category: Suite Française (2015)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topanga/pseuds/Topanga
Summary: A short fic, based of the movie version (and some small aspects of the novella Dolce) of Suite Francaise. This is the first fic I am posting, and getting my feet wet in the fan fiction world. I am merely giving myself (and those of you who wanted more for Lucile and Bruno) a happier ending of sorts, albeit in a short fic. We start when they first kiss outside the Perrin house and continue from there. There will be a couple time jumps.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters do not belong to me, but Irene Nemirovsky. I take no ownership of the original story/novel or movie version.

In that moment, I knew I loved him. I was sure I did. I had tried to fight it for the past three months, but no longer my heart wanted to be alone. It was as if we both knew from the beginning and tried to avoid it. But our souls were connected in a way we never thought they could be. 

The moment his lips touched mine, I knew. I tried to push him away, but of course he was stronger. And when his hands gripped my arms ensuring I could not escape for the third time, I succumbed to it. I let his skin prick mine, with the poison of love. But before it could force itself deeper within my heart, I pulled back, in desperation. Desperate, because I knew if I did not control myself, I would never stop. Frantic, because if anyone saw, I would have no defense in protection of myself, due to all the rumors circling before.

\-----

As I forced myself to walk away and back around to the house, I could not help but think about Gaston. Is this what he felt like when meeting his mistress, his lover? The feeling of skin melting together, the softness of lips tainted with such sweetness one never knew existed? A woman he could not marry, forbidden to him, and forced to keep secret? Could I keep Bruno secret? I could not, if I loved him. I couldn’t leave with him either for we would not be able to marry, each already being legally bound. 

I could not control my impulse to reach out and touch him, as we left the grounds of the house and returned towards the village with Mrs. Perrin’s belongings. Trailing behind his men there was no one to see, not yet. And so my fingers brushed his glove; barely a fraction, almost subconsciously. My body betrayed me, wholly. But I could not resist turning to look at him before we rounded the path to the village square. He did not look back and was stoic as ever. Except for the twitch at the corner of his lip there was no change in his demeanor. A soldier, always a soldier. 

I left Mrs. Perrin to her things, and with a nod of my head turned back to the house. Where would Bruno be? I did not see where he left to – although likely the German head quarters – and internally punished myself for not paying attention. As I walked up the path to the house, I turned to ensure no one was behind me, and when I was I near ran into the house and allowed the sea to pour from my eyes as my racketing sobs escaped my lips and I covered my mouth with my hands, so that in case someone was home they would not hear. I leaned back against the front door as I shut it behind me and slid to the floor, wishing I were dead.


	2. Chapter 2

There were steps coming up the path to the house, and they were unmistakable. They were his. I had memorized them, over the past months. I knew them from the step in the garden, to how they sounded descending the stairs, or the pacing in his room. He had come, but if for me I felt as if I wouldn’t know. I stood quickly and made my way into the parlor, to hide the shame of my feelings and heart. I prayed he would go directly to his room and save myself any embarrassment. When I heard him come in and close the door but make no sound, my curiosity got the better of me, and I could not resist the moment to see him. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked as quietly as I could through the pane of the parlor door. He was standing with his hat under his left arm, and his right pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly in frustration. But his eyes betrayed him, as the lashes glistened with wetness. They were shut tightly, as if to force the emotion to cease, but to no avail. I heard him whisper under his breath and I knew then he would not have shown such emotion or said what he did, if he knew I was there and my emotions mirroring his. It was quite simple and said unmistakably to himself.

“I’m sorry, Lucile.”

Those three words broke me. 

I near ran to him and at the last second before I pulled his lips to mine, our eyes connected, and I knew he could see right through me: the look of relief and pain that flashed through him before he crushed my body against his. The static was electrifying, I could not disconnect myself from him. He tried to pull away but I could not bear to pull my lips from his. In the end he succeeded, but just enough to whisper my name, and my heart nearly burst at the feeling of hearing it from his lips as they brushed and burned against my own. I didn’t recognize the sound that came from myself then. Half pain and half desperation to have him as we moved into the parlor not daring to separate our bodies. The next moment his hands encircled my waist and lifted me onto the table. I pulled away then and looked at him. Our noses brushed and I could see a tear trickle down his left cheek. I gently kissed it away, and he mirrored the action on both my cheeks. 

“I cannot bear to see your tears Lucile. It pains me something I cannot put into words.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehand against mine. 

“Then do not put it into words. Show me instead.” And so he did. He eyes met mine with a burning desire in them, and lips crushed mine immediately as his hands caressed my back with softness and eagerness to explore. I tugged on his jacket and right away he understood. He yanked it off and pulled his suspender straps down as I began madly working at his buttons, eager to find purchase with the skin on his chest, to feel his heart beating for me beneath my hands. His fingers found the hem of my dress and pulled it upwards as his hands found my thighs, raising me off the table so that I could lift it higher. He set me back down and quickly undid his pants, and then lifted me once again so that we could fit together. I nearly shattered as he pushed home, pressing into every crevasse filling my body and heart. A sob escaped my lips again and he saved it with his own. I pressed my hands to his wet cheeks and kissed him frantically as if the fate of the world was dependent on this moment. Then he moved, slowly, and with delicacy, as if I was a fragile doll that might shatter at any moment. I was afraid I would, for every emotion pouring through my body was uncontrollable. 

“Lucile,” He pulled away reluctantly. “Lucile, look at me, please.” 

I did, and our eyes watched the other as he gently loved me, again and again. He pressed a gentle kiss to each cheek, my forehead, my nose, and softly to my lips. I could tell he was trying to prolong his release, struggling to stay motionless, watching my facial reaction when he stopped. 

“Bruno, please.” I practically begged, I wanted his friction, his movement, the wholeness of being one.

“Lucile, I must tell you. Before I continue. I’ll not be parted from you. Not now, not ever. Do you understand?”

I could see the question in his eyes. Could he continue? Would we be more to each other than in just this moment? Did I love him as he did me? 

“Yes, Bruno, yes. I do. Please, love me now, I need you.” That was all he needed, to press himself all the way into me with a vigor I could not have imagined I would ever feel. He must have suspected I would nearly scream, for he pulled my face into his shoulder and held me there as he kissed and nibbled at my neck, all the while loving me fiercely, again, and again, and again. 

I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed like that afterwards, except I was lost in the softness of his lips, as we took turns exploring one another, wiping stray tears from cheeks. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours; I wouldn’t have known, there were no words exchanged between us.

\---

It wasn’t until we heard the car pull up to the drive that we snapped out of our reverie. My fear outweighed his, for I was in the more compromising position than he. He would be able to hand wave his behavior if we were caught. I however would not. He put a finger to his lips, and I nodded in agreement. He leaned into me further, and I leaned back mimicking his movement to try and obstruct ourselves from view even further. 

Bruno watched from the corner of his eye as Mrs. Angellier and Marthe came into the house and walked up the stairs. He reluctantly and gently disentangled himself from Lucile to move closer to the doorway, ensuring the woman had gone all the way up and were not returning. He quickly ran back to Lucile and kissed her with such a fervor he nearly took her again in that moment, caring little for who was to see. He pulled away to see her lips slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and hair mused. She had never been more beautiful to him than in that moment. She sensed his reluctance in leaving her and urged him on.

“Go, before they come back down.” She whispered. His eyes pleaded with her for another kiss, and she granted it most willingly. “She is visiting her sister on Thursday. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Yes, alright. I will see you after dinner, yes?” His eyes pleaded once more and she obliged him with a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “I must go now, Lucile.” And with a press of his forehead to hers, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope to have chapter 3 up tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

72 hours later

 

Amaury de Monfort was killed that afternoon. Benoit was not found; his wife had been tortured to try and give him up. But little did she know he was safe with me. Madame Angellier had come home and found me carrying a tray into the cupboard under the stairs for Benoit. I was surprised to know about the hiding place that her father had built in the first war, in the upstairs linen closet. After we moved Benoit there, tried to determine the best way to move him out of the city. Going to Paris seemed like the best option as Benoit had friends there and could not remain hiding inside the Angellier home. 

\---

“I know people in Paris. People who are getting organized.” Benoit took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. 

“You’ll never get past the checkpoints. They’re everywhere.” Mrs. Angellier said curtly. 

“What if I take him?” Lucile stood and turned towards them.

“Lucile you can’t do that.” Marthe said concerned. 

“I’m taking you.” She stated flatly. She made up her mind in that moment: there was nothing to lose anymore. 

“What about the travel pass?” Mrs. Angellier inquired. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She turned then to change and let down her hair; to see the love she knew would forever be forbidden to her. 

\---

Lucile walked solemnly up the grounds of the Perrin residence, as the German soldiers drank and walked about in pairs. Each set of eyes turned to her, whistling, looking. She tried to remain confident, but despite the argument they had two days ago while Bruno’s men searched the house, she was still terrified. He knew she had lied to him about her feelings. Of that, she was sure. But in this moment as she searched for him among the drunken soldiers celebrating the death of an innocent man, her heart was breaking at the thought of leaving him while she drove with Benoit to Paris, unsure if she would ever see him again. 

“What are you doing here?” 

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards it. In all the time she had known him, he had never looked so solemn, so alone. What Lucille wouldn’t give to wrap him in the safety of her arms and hold him close forever. 

“I need a travel pass, I have to go to Paris. One of our tenants needs medicine.” She tried to keep her composure, but knew the tears threatening her lashes betrayed her emotions entirely. He looked up a her then, and she could see the sadness in his face. His eyes and cheeks were red, and there were tear streaks on his face. His hair was in disarray, clearly an indication of running his fingers through it in frustration. She could see the pain in his eyes, and the struggle he had been through. 

“Is it absolutely necessary that you be the one to go to Paris?” 

“Yes, it has to be me.” Lucile looked at him and knew that he suspected something. After what happened, she assumed that he wouldn’t question her. She had seen honesty in his eyes then, but what if it was simply a case of being a soldier who no longer wanted to be alone, so far from home?

“Come, let’s speak elsewhere.” He stood then and offered her his hand. She looked from Bruno’s hand to his eyes and saw then that he was genuine in his request, and gently took his hand. He turned and led her a short way into the trees and soon enough she recognized the same clearing where he kissed her the other day. Suddenly she felt him on her lips, and his arms encircled her. 

“What happened yesterday, was wrong. They shouldn’t have killed an innocent man. I didn’t have a choice, I would have been labeled a traitor, killed, and my family labeled traitors to the Reich. If I were you I would hate me too. Do you understand?” He looked at her with pleading eyes, and she felt caught in between an impossible situation. 

“Bruno…I don’t know if I can come to terms with this. I meant what I said the other day, I was wrong in my feelings.”

“That’s not what it seemed like to me, two days ago when I made love to you in the parlor, nor a moment ago when you kissed me back.”

“It’s impossible.” she tipped her head towards the ground, ashamed of her feelings and the betrayal to her husband, regardless of his treatment of her. “We cannot be together.” Bruno placed his fingers under her chin and brought her head back up. 

“My orderly smelt another mans tobacco when we searched the house, and he asked me about it. Seeing as there is no other man in the house except for me, you can see how he found this suspicious.” 

“And you?”

“I…I told him that it was mine. A gift from my wife.” He leaned down to press his cheek to hers and sighed in relief at the contact. 

“Oh.”

“Lucile, I said I would not be parted from you, and I meant it. The army is to move tomorrow; we convene in Paris and will receive orders from there. My uncle, he works in Paris under a General and will be placed there until the end of the war. I have told him about you, and if you desire to remain there for me until I can return, we can be together after this is over. I will return to Paris before the regiment moves out of France, to see you. Will you stay in Paris and wait for me?”

“Bruno… we’re both married. Our countries are at war. It’s not possible.” Tears began to pool in her eyes and she looked away again, toward the abrupt laughter coming from the soldiers from the distance. 

“I know it seems cruel, but I would divorce my wife. And even if it was not possible, I would still be willing to be with you regardless of our circumstances. Are you?”

‘I…how could I? I’ve already been unfaithful to my husband; how can we live in sin?” Lucile stumbled over what she said and nearly let her heart agree with him instead. Bruno shook his head and sighed. 

“To the man who has been unfaithful to you before you married? Who has a child with another woman? I know getting a divorce isn’t the easiest to obtain, but since I am a Lieutenant and I saw multiple of the letters that were written about your husband and his child, I should be able to make a statement which would make it easier for you. My uncle is well connected through the army, I don’t believe I will have a problem either. But that doesn’t matter Lucile—”

“Doesn’t matter?!” she interjected and started to pace in the small clearing. How could it not matter—” Bruno stopped her by grabbing her arm and pulled her back towards him, cupping her cheeks, and brought his forehead down towards hers, sighing.

“Lucile, what I meant was that it doesn’t matter to me, either way. I will love you and be by your side regardless of situation. The choice is yours. If you want me or not, I will let you decide our fate.” He kissed her forehead, cheeks, and then lightly on her lips before taking her hands. “I must return now and give my orderly directions on what I need done tonight and in the morning. I will instruct him to issue the travel pass.”

“Bruno…”

“Oh Lucile, I do love you.” And Bruno brought her flush to his body, kissed her with an intensity and fervor they had both never felt before. He could feel his heart entwine with hers and break at the same time, with the frightening feeling she would not wait for him in Paris. 

“I love you too, Bruno.” Lucile placed her hands on his chest and smiled at him through her tears.

“We will see each other again. Not as a soldier.” He brushed his forehead against hers. “You won’t even recognize me.”

“Be careful, with your life.” She looked into his eyes, pleading.

“Is it precious to you?”

“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “It is precious to me.” She closed her eyes then, and felt his body move from underneath her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. But when she did, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

While Benoit gathered the last of his things before they left, Lucile went up to her room one last time. She felt nothing at the notion of leaving her room and life behind in Bussy. It was never discussed, but Lucile knew she would not return. She looked at her bed made up, the dresser empty, and her side table with nothing but a washcloth some tissue folded next to it. No, she had no attachment to this room, this home, or these people. Did she care for their tenants? Yes, but only as she disliked seeing good and innocent people hurt for no reason. But to leave it behind would be easy. The mother in law who kept her sons’ secrets and did not treat her or their tenants kindly most times. There was nothing left for her here. Bruno would be gone to fight against her own people, and she would likely never see him again. 

At the thought of him she moved across to the door of his now empty room and remembered the last time they were in it together. He had tried to kiss her at the window after playing the piano for her, and she had said no to him, stepping back. She regretted it now. The comforting feel of his hand on her shoulder, his fingers stroking her cheek, his breath on her lips, their noses brushing. She closed her eyes and felt his presence hovering, lingering. Subconsciously she moved to the piano and sat down, opening her eyes to see that he had indeed, left something behind. 

The piece he had played for her, completed and named Suite Francaise. She touched the notes, hearing him play them one by one and her heart could not stop beating at an alarming rate. Tears pooled in her eyes as she imagined Bruno sitting next to her on the piano bench, playing the song he had crafted for her. She knew he had left it as a token of his love for her, so she delicately picked it up and held it to her heart, before folding and tucking it inside of her bag. Fitting it would seem, that she would fall in love with the man who played music for her from her husbands’ piano, when her husband could not make Lucile feel the same when he sat at it nearly everyday that they were married. To her surprise she was not appalled at the thought and could no longer imagine Gaston sitting there beside her. Lucile wiped the tears from her eyes and mentally prepared herself for the journey to Paris, not only unsure of whether she would return to Bussy, let alone even make it safely to Paris. With a glance to the mirror to ensure her appearance was suitable and no red rimmed her eyes, she made her way down the stairs to meet with Benoit and leave. 

 

“This is everything you’ll need.” Mrs. Angellier pulled a stack of folded francs from a box on the table. “And Gaston left us this, just in case.” She followed the francs with a small handgun, passing it to Lucile across the table. She was a surprised by her mother in laws action but did not hesitate to take it, placing it inside her bag.  
Benoit walked in the room then, wearing Gaston’s black suit, with a light blue button down top and patterned navy tie. He walked over to Mrs. Angellier and she embraced him. 

 

“Thank you.” He managed to say before she pulled him to her, and the emotion was written all over her face. Lucile knew she was thinking of Gaston then, and felt as if she was saying goodbye to him for a second time. There was no telling if he would come home or survive the labour camp that he was forced into as a prisoner of war. But it would do no ease to inform her of it at such a time, so instead Lucile chose to give her hope. 

 

“Gaston will come home.” Lucile squeezed Mrs. Angellier’s shoulder, receiving no response from the woman before she stepped out to the car. Lucile sighed and moved toward the trunk to help Benoit in. 

 

“Thank you, Lucile. Let us hope and pray we both make it to Paris safely.” He swung his leg over the lip of the trunk and climbed in, tucking himself as comfortably as possible inside and positioned his gun outwards. “Just in case, Lucile.” He smiled at her. “You never know. I hope I don’t have to use it, but better to be prepared.” Lucile nodded back, and with the help of Marthe they both closed it on Benoit. 

 

“Be careful dear. I am worried for you. Will you be back today or tomorrow?” The older woman looked at her with a sadness in her face.

 

“I’m not sure Marthe, I couldn’t say. It would depend how the journey in is. Hopefully we don’t come across any trouble.” Lucile tried to give her a reassuring smile but Marthe saw right through her. 

 

“Ah, so you won’t be coming back then. I know things are not easy with Madame, but she does care for you, you know. She would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

 

“Well, considering she thinks I married her son for money, instead of love, I imagine she wouldn’t be too disappointed if I don’t come back, as long as Gaston does. If I find out any news I will send word.” They embraced and Lucile whispered into her ear. “I never thanked you, for that day we hid in the garden.” She pulled away and looked into Marthes’ eyes. 

 

“My dear, sometimes we are put into situations and do not even know how we ended up in them and regret it afterwards, but nothing to be done for it. Remember, not every man wants to be in a war or take the life of another. To climb out of the pit of loneliness in times like these takes a brave soul – that doesn’t excuse the actions, or what they do – but he was a kind man.” Marthe patted her cheek and waved her toward the car. “Do write dear, if you can manage it. And do please be careful.” 

 

“I will Marthe. Thank you for your kindness these years, it means a lot to me.” And with a smile and wave, Lucile climbed into the drivers’ seat, shut the door, and started the engine. 

 

They were about thirty minutes into the drive the Paris when they reached the checkpoint. Lucile prayed that there would only be one, and no issue with the travel pass as the officer walked up to the windows and asked for it. She pulled the sealed envelope out of her bag and handed it to the German officer. He rifled through the paperwork and gave her a curious glance as he looked back at one of the previous papers. He shouted to his companion to come for help and was laughed at. He didn’t need help with a woman, did he? What could be so difficult about checking a woman’s car, he shouted back to the officer who was standing beside the vehicle. 

 

“Madame, I’m going to have to ask you to open the trunk of your car.” He motioned for her to exit the car and pointed toward the trunk. Lucile panicked and nodded to the officer as she tried to slip the handgun from her bag and slip it into her coat pocket. She was nervous, and her hands were shaking. She hoped Benoit would suspect something had gone wrong since the car had been stopped and turned off for a long time. Lucile barely managed to walk around to the back of the vehicle standing upright. She braced her hand on the side of the vehicle and kept the other close to her pocket in case she needed to reach for the gun. She glanced up at the officer who was looking at her with piercing eyes, and his hands on his gun. He motioned with it towards the trunk indicating that she open it. She placed both hands on the latch and lifted the door, standing to the side as best as she could in hopes that Benoit was armed with his gun. She prayed they both make it out alive and that there were no more officers they didn’t know about in the tent that was pitched. As Benoit came into view she could see the officers eyes widen in surprise and Lucile ducked at the side of the car for fear of what would happen next, covering her head with her hands and crouched as low as possible, and fished the gun from her pocket. 

Two shots rang off, and then two more. As she turned to point towards where the tent was with the second officer, she noticed him lying facedown in the road, unmoving. The officer that had her open the trunk was lying on his back, and clearly dead. Benoit had climbed out of the trunk and fallen to the ground, bleeding profusely from his shoulder. She could see the stain seeping through the shirt and jacket he wore.

 

“Benoit! Are you alright?!” She scrambled to his side and onto her knees to inspect his wound.

 

“I’ll live, I think. I cannot move my arm though. I’m not sure if the bullet went all the way through; could you see?” Lucile tried to peek at his back and could see no blood.

 

“I don’t believe so, no. We’ll have to dig it out and get you cleaned up before we go any further, I don’t know if we’ll make it all the way to Paris with simply putting pressure on the wound.” As she spoke, she pulled the silk scarf from around her neck and folded it into a wad, and pressed it onto his wound.

 

“Argh! Dammit, Lucile.”

 

“Sorry, we need to stop as much of the bleeding as possible.”

 

“Yes, yes I know… Let’s get back into the car; I’ll need your help. But mind your clothes, let’s not get any blood on you, we don’t know how many checkpoints we still need to pass. And make sure to retrieve your travel pass from the officer. We can’t stay here.” Benoit was breathing heavily through his speech, speaking in slow gasps. He motioned for her to retrieve the pass and Lucile nodded and stood. As she did, she noticed a figure coming down the road. 

 

“Someone is coming, we won’t get out in time!” She reached for her gun and kept it at her side, unsure of who was coming down the road. As they approached, she realized it was a single man on a motorcycle. German from the uniform, but as he came closer she gasped and caught herself on the side of the car nearly dropping her gun. She knew that stance anywhere. 

 

Bruno pulled up behind the vehicle and stood, turning his motorcycle off. He looked at her amazed at the scene before him. Her with a gun, and three men lying on the ground. There was a hesitancy in his movements, but she also noted he did not have any weapons in hand and was without his hat. It was an odd thing to notice, but then Bruno was never less than presentable for his position in the army. She realized that he hadn’t come because he was travelling this way but must have followed her. 

 

“Lucile…” He looked at her with a stunned expression on his face, and held out one of his hands towards her, and the other midway up in the air. There was shock and pain in his eyes, even more so than the night they parted ways. She could tell he didn’t know what to make of the scene even if he had suspected that she was taking Benoit to Paris with her. Certainly not two dead German officers and Benoit bleeding on the ground. 

 

“I…” she stammered, not knowing anything coherent to say to him. Bruno took three steps towards her, and it was then she realized she had lifted the gun and pointed it towards him. They stood silent looking at one another for what seemed minutes but was only seconds. 

 

“Help me.” He pointed to Benoit, and slowly moved towards him. Lucile breathed a sigh of relief and pocketed her gun, bending to help Bruno lift Benoit into the car. It was not too difficult seeing as Bruno was of sizable stature and height, so Lucile helped by supporting his weight when they shifted him into the backseat of the car. They methodically moved to shut the door of the trunk and rear doors of the car. Lucile stumbled around to the drivers’ side where Bruno was waiting with the door open for her. 

 

She stopped before getting in and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the fast beat of his heart, pounding from the ride to catch her before it was too late and the adrenaline from lifting Benoit into the vehicle. But mostly it was beating for her: for fear she would be hurt, injured, or come across another set of German soldiers and not live to see out the afternoon. Clutching her travel pass, he handed it to her, and she took it took it gratefully and placed it into her coat pocket. She looked at him then, with gratitude and fear. Lucile lifted herself and chastely kissed his cheek, breathing in his scent. 

 

“Goodbye, Bruno.” She turned away from him then, just as he had turned from her the night before and slid into the drivers’ seat. He shut the door and watched as she fumbled with the ignition and started the car, moving towards Paris without looking back at him. He could see the tears streaming down her cheeks as the vehicle rolled past him. 

 

Lucile looked back at Benoit who nodded, and then she looked in the rear view mirror only to find Bruno standing in the middle of the road watching them, perfectly still, as she drove away.


	5. Chapter 5

October 10th, 1940

 

“Are you sure you want to stay in Paris instead of returning to Bussy? It could be dangerous for you.” Benoit looked directly at Lucile and crossed his arms, leaning against the table behind him. 

 

“Not any less dangerous than it is for you.” She responded and mimicked his pose on the opposite table. 

 

“Rebellion is no place for a woman.” The man behind Benoit piped up as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. 

 

“Ah, none of that Maurice. I said it could be dangerous, not that there wasn’t a place for her. We need everyone we can get. France is not just made up of men. It is made up of women too. Why shouldn’t they want to fight alongside us for their freedom? It’s not as if we’re storming them tomorrow.” Benoit shrugged and stabbed his cigarette butt into the ashtray behind him. Lucile smiled as he continued. “Right, well, I’m sure we can sort something out in the coming days. Perhaps we can find something very useful for you to do. German soldiers are likely more welcoming to French women than French men and wouldn’t be as suspicious to any actions. I should hope not anyways. Let’s finish this in the morning. I am exhausted enough as is, I’ve been shot, mended, and sitting in the trunk for most of the day.” At a nod to everyone and a raised eyebrow at Maurice, Benoit turned from the room. Lucile followed him as they went up to take a much-needed rest. 

 

 

October 10th, 1941

 

Lucile had been working for the underground newspaper for nearly a year, and secretly obtaining information from the German side. She didn’t know who was sourcing the information for them on the Army’s movements, but she was at Madame Elise’s the 10th of every third month to meet with her for more information. She took the steps upstairs and went in the door and down the hall, bypassing couples entwined against the walls and sounds of passion behind doors. She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door, slipping into Madame’s office and closed it behind her. She knew Madame would show up when she had been free of her customers. 

 

For the type of establishment Madame’s office was surprisingly bare. She supposed it was because the location was an unspoken secret, there was no advertisement of the nature of the business outside the building’s walls. Her desk was empty save for the telephone in the left corner, a stack of papers with names and a number listed next to them, and two pens beside it. On the other side there was half a glass of red wine with a prominent rouge lipstick stain, and a second smaller glass with little residual water in the base. Someone else had been here recently she thought, and that was unusual. Madame had been explicit with Lucille to be discreet about slipping into her office as not many were admitted; only three people were in possession of a key. She didn’t even allow her staff inside. Her heart began hammering in her chest. It was likely that the correspondent from the enemy side was here, and quite recently. She made a mental note to delay her next meeting until a day later than expected. It was dangerous to have any contact with them to ensure no one had followed from the German side. They would lose their source of intel and wouldn’t be likely to gain another. There were footsteps outside the door and Lucile promptly sat in chair clearly meant for guests to Madame. 

 

“Ah, so you have come.” Madame slipped into the office and locked the door behind her. “Ca va, Lucile?”

 

“Tres bien, Madame Elise.” Lucile stood and greeted her with a kiss on each cheek before returning to her seat, and Madame sat across from her in the dark navy velvet seat on the other side of the desk. 

 

“We must be quick today, I have already been away from the establishment and the German officers will be suspicious. The correspondent was a few days late you see, I wonder we should establish a different date for the next time, hmm?” Madame Elise sat in her chair and pushed her curls from her eyes with the back of her hand, and the other waving eagerly in front of her face to cool down. Clearly the day had been a busy one, and she was visibly flustered leaning back in her chair. Her 18th century clothing did nothing to disguise the fact that she was overheated, in the corset, petticoats, and layers of silk. It may be 1941, but Lucile knew Madame Elise would forever have her heart in the time of the peak of French fashion and times of days past. 

 

“What is there of note today Madame? Anything I can take back with me?” Lucile sat up straighter in her chair prepared to memorize every detail she could. Any paper trail would dangerous to her and their man inside the German Army. Madame Elise sighed and took a sip of her wine, closing her eyes and savoring the flavour before responding to Lucile. 

 

“Nothing this time I’m afraid. I know we’ve been lucky in the past, but this time there is no new information. And unfortunately, our man will not be able to return on schedule. He is being called on leave and then directly dispatched to a new location. We will not know anything for some months now. I will send a messenger for you when the time comes.” Madame Elise stood abruptly and gestured towards the door. Lucile stuttered and nearly stumbled over the chair at the sudden movement as she stood. “You must leave Lucile, quickly now.” She gestured again and came around the table placing her hand on Lucile’s back, pressing her gently towards the door. 

 

“Madame I am grateful for your aid in the cause, but I must ask why the abrupt departure?” Their meetings were usually lengthy and with Lucile memorizing every piece of information things took time to relay in a direct manner. 

 

“Lucile I was not wanting to do this, but you must send another in your stead the next time…” Her voice trailed as she paused with her hand on the doorknob and took and deep breath before turning to look Lucile in the eye. “He knows you. If any who is aware of this sees you both within the same vicinity and finds out you never returned to Bussy, there will be suspicions. I allow German soldiers to come and go with my girls, and the Germans pay well for it. Yes, the money goes to the cause, but it also gives us the ability to freely obtain information without suspicion. If anyone he knows sees you here before their unit departs, we will have a problem.” Lucile froze, and her eyes grew when the realization dawned on her. 

 

“How?” 

 

“What do you mean how, Lucile?” 

 

“How does he know me, and how does he know it is me?” If Lucile was right there was only German soldier who knew her, and only one who would have concern for her safety. 

 

“He did not say exactly. But my suspicion is he waited at one point to see who it was that was coming to meet me. He is an intelligent man and it is easy to spot women who do not frequent the establishment or work here, you see. Now you must go and I must insist upon it. For your safety Lucile and his; do remember what I said about sending someone different the next time.” Madame Elise opened the door and ushered Lucile out. “Au revoir Lucile.”

 

“Au revoir Madame.” Lucile stepped outside of the door and heard the lock click behind her. She sighed and headed down the hall past the now occupied rooms and down the dark stairs, and out into the night. 

 

The sun had just begun to set and she would have to be back at the hotel very soon. Benoit insisted that she stay at a hotel every time she left Madame Elise’s, in case any one followed her back to where they stayed. She knew the German soldiers would start coming out to ensure everyone is in by curfew, so she picked up her pace and walked faster, tucking her hands further into her pockets. Her mind got the best of her and she couldn’t help thinking back to when she was in Bussy and the moments she shared with Bruno. When they kissed for the first time and she saw the sadness in his face for the last time. Could he be the one bringing intel to Madame Elise? It would make sense she supposed, considering how hard the war was on his belief, and how much he had a hatred for hurting and murdering innocent people. What were the odds that it could be Bruno out of the whole German army? Little, she knew. The likelihood that it was Bruno would make her heart feel relieved to know he was safe and still out of harms way. Madame Elise did say that he knew her and there was only one German soldier whom she felt could fall into that category. Lucille breathed in the night air as she continued down Quai de Montebello, and she felt some light rain drops slowly increase their speed down the back of her neck and onto her head. She pulled the scarf she carried in her pocket out and draped it over her head, walking a little faster so as not to get caught in the oncoming downpour. She looked up at Notre Dame to her left, took a deep breath and turned sharply right down Rue de l’Hotel Colbert. 

 

As she approached the Hotel Paris she felt a presence behind her, considering it odd knowing most were already inside and no longer in the streets. She glanced behind her seeing nothing but continued with her steady pace nonetheless. She considered the thought – but no, it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t risk it – and pushed it far from her mind. No one knew her by Lucile here, she had gone by an alias in order to protect herself and her mother in-law. She knew that they wondered where she was due to the fact she never returned the day she traveled to Paris with Benoit. She prayed that if it was Bruno following her (for the presence was looming and she could not seem to shake it from her body) he would not call out to her. Anyone else could be listening or have followed and destroy what she had worked so hard to build; both of their lives would be on the line. Lucile reached the front of the hotel doors just as curfew was beginning, risking one more glance behind her. There was no one save some soldiers smoking and laughing with one another about half a block down the street. Lucile sighed half in relief and half in disappointment and turned entering the hotel. 

 

“Bonsoir madame, how are you this evening?” The bellman tipped his hat at her and she turned to smile at him and respond. She froze as she looked behind him and through the glass doors, and her vision seemed to be perfect even through the downpour. It was him across the street, she knew. His figure was singular and stood out. She knew it from any angle, and it was no question Bruno was standing in the shadow of the alley with a long coat, arms crossed and leaning against the historic bricks of Paris past. She shut her eyes briefly to ensure she wasn’t dreaming and blinked them open again fighting back the stinging tears threatening her emotions. And just like a dream, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this fic is taking me longer than I liked to finish and post in its entirety. I wasn't happy with a few things so I made some minor changes. I do hope to update the last two chapters soon. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> 


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